4-1. Who saw that coming? Derry City went crashing out of the FAI Cup, and the crowd sang ‘Wallace For Taoiseach’. Love Mick Wallace or hate him, everything he does is interesting. From decking a football team out in pink to ending up in the Dail, he’s what many would refer to as ‘some character’, you could say.
I’ve never ate in Wallace’s Tavern, La Taverna, but I pass it almost every day. I’ve always just imagined that it’s expensive. The ‘Italian Quarter’ even sounds pricey, doesn’t it?
I don’t eat out enough in Dublin. In a city where nobody thinks twice of handing over a fiver for a pint glass of booze, value for money is something we can only really pretend to be passionate about. A mate suggests we drop into Mick’s as we’ve something to chat about and need a venue. It beats the pub.
“He’s nearly bankrupt isn’t he?”. Jesus, I’d hope not. If it endangers this place anyway. Living next to an Apache Pizza I’ve been eating what I thought was pizza for years. It wasn’t. It was pure crap. This is pizza. It’s huge, its piping hot, it’s covered in Italian sausage and it’s got a glass of red wine beside it.
A glass of red and a very sizeable pizza comes in at €10 on the lunch menu, which is hard to fault. We were in at 3:30 and the place was very quiet, but as my mam says of the recession “where isn’t?” There was no rush to get us out the door (how annoying is that in any environment?) and we were left to chat away, happy as larry.
Ray, you have a challenger, a scruffy hairy one by the name of Mick. While I love Ray’s, maybe this northside contender will become a frequent spot to drop in on.













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